Dreams Made Flesh
by CetaceanSoul
Summary: As Picard suffers incurable insomnia, his inhibitions regarding a certain omnipotent entity start to crumble.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I will admit that Q and Picard belong to Gene Roddenberry. However, they are mine to play with upon this wonderful website.

Jean-Luc suppressed a yawn as he read his morning Star Fleet news report. He was in the thick of one of his episodic cycles of insomnia. As familiar as he was with his own sleep patterns, he didn't expect his mental inability to let himself relax into full restful sleep to persist long enough to interfere with his capability to perform his duties as captain of the Enterprise D. Hell he'd been through these periods of subconsciously self-imposed sleep deprivation for what, the past twenty years or more? While he had a fleeting thought of asking Dr. Crusher for a sleep aid, he told himself that since the issue was bound to resolve itself he needn't unnecessarily worry her. And he knew telling her would only worry her.

He nursed a cup of coffee with a triple shot of espresso. He allowed himself a modicum of hope that the day ahead would be business as usual. He smiled ruefully into his cup. Small chance of that.

The beeping of his tele-com roused him from his thoughts. He pressed the talk button on the screen, quickly forcing himself to be alert and professional.

"Picard, here." he said, snatching another sip of liberally caffeinated coffee.

"Captain Picard, this is Admiral Ignacius reporting from Starbase 133. I have an urgent task for the Enterprise."

Of course you do, Picard told himself, his hopes of a normal day dashed to a million pieces.

"What can I do for you, Admiral?"

"The moon of Braelle IV is falling out of orbit. As you are the closest galaxy class Federation vessel to the planet. We urge you to change your present heading and make haste to Braelle IV to see if there is anything you can do to stabilize the moon. As the Enterprise-D has the most powerful tractor beams of any class of Federation starship, hopefully you can utilize them to cancel out the gravitational pull presently being exerted upon this singular celestial body."

"I understand and will do everything within my power to successfully restore Braelle IV's moon to stable orbit."

"You and your crew have my thanks, Picard. Kindly keep my staff updated on the progress of your attempt."

"Of course. Expect to hear from me within the next two hours."

"Very good, Captain Picard."

Turning off his telecom speaker, Jean-Luc blew out a long sigh. He drained the rest of his cup and stood up from his desk. He dismally wished he'd gotten even an hour's worth of solid sleep.

Ah well, you're never afforded that kind of luxury when you're the captain of a galaxy class Federation star ship, he supposed. He quickly made his way to the bridge.

"Mister Data, I've received word from Starbase 133 that we are to divert our heading to Baelle IV. If I am correct, we should reach the planet in 20 minutes with warp factor four on mark 12."

Data turned around in his seat to meet his gaze.

"Seventeen minutes and 49.4 seconds."

Jean-Luc didn't stop his urge to roll his eyes.

"Yes, thank you, Data."

Jean-Luc made an ensign go to the replicator and procure him a second cup of coffee. If the start of the morning was anything to go on, he was going to need it in order to get through the day. He was half-way or so through his second coffee when it happened. In the seconds before it occurred he remembered thinking that the very worst thing that could happen then would be Q showing up on his ship. Yet as his brain processed the information as his eyes took it in he knew that wasn't true.

The very worst thing that could have happened was for Q to show up on his bridge, completely and utterly stark naked.

Oh God, he thought as his stomach lurched in discomfort. This can't be happening.

A/N: OK, I know really short prologues are evil, but all I can say is that more is coming soon. Be forewarned though this is going to contain very explicit Q/Picard sexual content. If that squicks you in any way please go to the (shudders) Dr. Crusher/Picard section.


	2. Chapter 2

For a fraction of a second Jean-Luc managed to convince himself that he was hallucinating. And in that knowledge that Q wasn't _really _lying on the floor of his bridge without a single stitch of clothing, he even allowed his eyes to subtly drift to the nexus of the naked form's endowment. Time itself seemed to freeze in tha one brief moment in time and Captain Jean-Luc Picard's brain had gone on leave without his permission. Even as the last rational part of his mind screamed at him to get a grip, in that second where his forebrain truly thought this naked Q a mirage brought on by lack of stage IV sleep for the last fortnight the _other _part of his mind smothered all coherent thought from this present moment in time.

And Jean-Luc could not have been more shocked in that one single nano-second than if someone had electrocuted him with a Klingon pain stick in the groin. Feeling heat siffuse his body Jean-Luc managed a hard swallow.

Oh God, he thought again. And because his brain persisted in the conclusion that this Q was only a meer image in his mind he wondered if the real Q would . . . measure up . . . to this glorious fantasy image. Every part of him was perfect, every inch of this veritable Adonis's body built for sin. An unbidden shiver of carnal interest shot down Jean-Luc's spine.

And then the image of Q began to move and slowly crawled into a sitting position and blinking, looked around in disorientation. The reality of the situation quickly dawned on Jean-Luc and his rational brained slammed back into control. The horror of realizing that Q was _actually _here spread quickly through his chest. His throat was tight and he didn't quite trust himself to speak. His mouth was dry and he experienced a further sinking sensation in his chest as he wondered if anyone on the bridge has noticed his physical reaction. He prayed they would only surmise that he was red around the collar because he was angry at Q's presence on the Enterprise.

"Someone. Get. Him. Clothing." Jean-Luc forced himself to say the words as normally as he could muster given his present set of circumstances. Of course now, after the fact . . . after he had glimpsed every detail of that thrice damned body . . . what did clothing matter? Jean-Luc forced himself to look at the floor, willing his nerves to still as Q rather clumsily pulled on the proffered jumpsuit.

And then Q walked forward to stand within an arm's length of his chair, affording the captain a very close view of the quite conspicuous outline of his bulging manhood and it was almost more than Jean-Luc could take. But aside from feigning serious illness right here in front of all the crew on the bridge and being rushed directly to sick bay there was not one thing he could do to evade his present situation. He rubbed a hand serreptiously over his face, and over his eyes, feigning an air of put out annoyance.

His mind only half listened to Q's new claims of punishment from the Continuum as he struggled to find a viable solution to the problem. And as he fought to maintain his mental faculties that _other_ locked and buried part of his psyche surged forward. He loathed that dark sliver of himself . . . _alien _to his rational consciousness that found enjoyment in viewing Q's body.

He jumped at the chance to get the supposedly mortal entity off his bridge by having Worf throw him in the brig. As Q left with Worf, Picard pushed himself back to the task at hand.

The first opportunity that Picard had to excuse himself from the crew, after they'd all gone to work to solve Braelle IV's present problem, Picard returned to his quarters, half afraid that Q would materialize in his bedroom. He locked the door of the master bathroom, not knowing if he wanted to laugh, scream, or cry. Emotions were surging inside of him that hadn't surfaced since his days as a cadet fresh out of Starfleet.

Yet this was quite a different animal altogether.

He had never had sex with another man, had never _wanted _to have sex with another man. And it wasn't as if this was some repressed desire, because at fifty years of age wouldn't he damn well have had a go at it all those years ago when he'd been worse than even Riker at reigning in his libido? If he could reconcile with himself that he did harbor some sort of secret curiosity about homosexual sex he wouldn't have been as troubled as he was.

But that truly was not the case which made everything all the more disturbing.

He felt dirty as he took off his uniform and stepped into the shower.

"Computer-shower stream of 39 degrees Fahrenheit."

Suddenly cold water poured over his head and down his body. He welcomed the freezing shower as it was the only thing he could think of that would physically force his body out of a state of arousal. He didn't know how many minutes he stood under the shower head, letting the water fall over his head and down his back. However by the time he turned the water off his body had begun a steady trembling and his testicles had retreated into his scrotum unable to stand the barrage of freezing water.

_At least for that-_Jean-Luc told himself. His stomach tightened when he reached the bridge and learned that Giordi wasn't making as good of a head way on his own as he had hoped. The next option-that _was not _an option as far as Jean-Luc was concerned was to ask Q for his assistance with the problem. Hell, for all they knew _he _was the cause of the problem to begin with. When it became apparent that Jean-Luc had no choice but to actually go talk to Q, he had a fleeting sensation that he was going to be sick.

He was vaguely aware that he had tunnel vision as he walked into view of Q's cell. The last thing he needed was to be within a hundred feet of the entity. And as much as he had mastered the art of stoicism . . . he wasn't entirely sure he could physically face Q without developing the beginnings of an erection.

His mind raced for something to think of . . . _anything _to dispel the unwanted images his mind was now conjuring much of its own volition of Q lying naked beneath him.

And then a sudden new thought hit him as he stopped to stand in front of Q's holding cell. The creature could be manipulating his mind in some sick and sordid attempt to seduce him. And if that were true, Jean-Luc would find a way to destroy the entity entirely.

Yet as the conversation between them unfolded, Jean-Luc became fairly confident the entity knew nothing of his lust for him. Q gave zero signs that he had played a part in Jean-Luc's suffering and surely, knowing Q's personality, and that he'd never miss a chance to gloat especially with the two of them out of earshot . . .

Jean-Luc forced himself to hold Q's gaze, stubbornly refusing to show any outward signs of his vulnerability. Spurred by hatred for the current object of his desire and deep, seering self-loathing for having these thoughts in the first place, Jean-Luc busied his mind with thinking of ways of killing Q. He rather fancied using a Federation outlawed quantum disruptor gun so much so that he nearly forgot himself and almost let his lips twitch up at the thought.

"Jean-Luc?" said Q.

_Don't answer_, Jean-Luc told himself. _Dont speak to__** It**__ any more than is absolutely necessary._

"Jean-Luc . . ." Q tried again.

Giving him a glacial stare, Jean-Luc stepped aside as Data came forward to escort Q to Engineering. He turned and departed while Q called after him.

"Jean-Luc!"

The captain walked resolutely away refusing to devote any more attention to the wretched creature behind him.

_If he really is as mortal as he claims, perhaps I should throw him out of an airlock and have done with it. _He walked along towards his ready-room forcing himself to channel his lust into violent hatred. He imagined the satisfaction of getting rid of Q forever. But he'd never be able to actually do it without lying to his crew about it. And _that_ he would never do.

He was in the midst of these thoughts when Deanna Troi walked around the corner. As soon as she caught sight of him she stopped dead in her tracks. Her face showed her growing confusion.

"Captain Picard . . ." she said.

"Councelor," he replied, fully intending to continue on his way but as he took a step she moved to stand directly in front of him..

"You're . . ."

Jean-Luc's nostrils flared in anger. "I'm _fine_, Councelor."

At this she arched a brow. "If I didn't know any better I would say you've somehow been afflicted with Betazed fertility lust."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you are referring to, Councelor," he said tersely. "I have matters to attend to, now kindly move out of my way."

"Or you've been experimenting with afrodisiacs on the holodeck."

"_No,_" Jean-Luc told her through gritted teeth. "_I have not."_ He felt Deanna's gaze look him up and down.

"Then what the _hell_ is wrong with you, Captain?" she asked, lowering her voice so only Jean-Luc could hear.

"_It's nothing of your concern."_

_ "_You're mental health is very much my concern, Jean-Luc," she told him softening her tone a degree or two. "And this uncharacteristic behavior is starting to make me question your health."

Jean-Luc ground his teeth together, trapped by her acute perception.

"Tell me why you are acting like this," she told him in a tone that brooked no argument.

"I have not been sleeping all too well."

She gave him a look. "That is _quite obviously _not the entire reason Jean-Luc."

"But," he told her, "That at least is entirely the truth. And it is all you shall get out of me."

He strode forward and Deanna stepped aside, realizing the futility of pressing him for more information. But before he turned down the hall he heard her voice behind him.

"I hope for your sake, Captain, that whatever this is it does not last much longer because if it does, it _will _interfere with your ability to peform the functions of your command."

Jean-Luc stilled at her words. She could sense he was losing control.

"I will be in my quarters should you feel the need to tell me what really is going on."

Jean-Luc let out a forceful breath. He was not going to let this impede his ability to act as captain of the Enterprise. He had been through so much in his fifty years of life, had sacrificed so much . . .

This would not defeat him.


End file.
